


Say a Prayer

by Sedusa



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz, Be More Chill - Ned Vizinni
Genre: Ableism, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Incest, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Incest, M/M, Religion, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Sibling Incest, dubcon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-26
Updated: 2019-05-26
Packaged: 2020-03-19 23:19:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18980410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sedusa/pseuds/Sedusa
Summary: He’d picked up on the scraps of spirituality from the frightened maids who came down the stairs with crosses in hand, muttering reassurances from a Lord he’d never heard of before. When Luci timidly confessed to Mo about his budding interest, he gave Luci his very own bible for a 18th birthday he hadn’t known was approaching. Soon enough, he found himself in love with the concept of selfless forgiveness, validating the fruitless longing he’d held every day since being locked down here.Godhead spends the morning of his trip among his family.(Far-removed AU from BMC canon. Mostly works as a self contained story. Read the author's note.)





	Say a Prayer

**Author's Note:**

  * For [vanceypants](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vanceypants/gifts).



> This is one version of an entire AU-verse surrounding my headcanon for the Squip, and his family. Here's some quick notes. Eventually I'll turn this verse into... something, but until then, just a quick crash course, here's their names;
> 
> Godhead (title, common name)/Christian (real, birth name): Based mostly on Two River's Squip.  
> Lucifer/Luci: Based loosely on the book Squip.  
> Moses: Rich's Squip. (Trans) Male. See vanceypants's Smoke Signals for more information.  
> Christopher: Sort of his own character (based on what I originally envisioned of human!Godhead and turned into his little brother), but also my idea for Michael's Squip.  
> Mother and Father/Mommy and Daddy, the rest of their family: Bad people.
> 
> Also, Godhead is... (internalized) ableist. Their whole family is ableist. I swapped his Hard slurs out with the word moron, but when I actually make a full Project for this verse, I'll likely leave him uncensored. However, I do NOT agree with him.  
> DOUBLE ALSO there's... religious stuff in this. I'm not Christian (or Catholic). Just, warning in advance.

Getting accepted to an out-of-state University was the greatest thing that’s ever happened to Godhead.

It was easily worth the hassle of a week’s bedrest and these _bubbly_ new scars. His Father’s anger at a direct act of defiance, as he’d ignored the order to continue study in the town just around the corner, wasn’t nearly enough to sour the prospect of leaving this hellhole for a few years. He’d spend as much time as he could squeeze out of his curriculum for an appropriately dignified degree (or four), and then, when he came home, he could murder his Father without any familial pushback at all.

And yet, even as his excitement became palpable the closer he got to leaving, he still felt a queasy discomfort at the prospect of leaving his Father alone and unchecked. His brothers were entirely vulnerable without the favor of his status as Godhead. Sure, he was fairly certain no one would die--at least, he certainly hoped not--but that didn’t mean much in this house. There were a great number of ways to ruin someone without resorting to murder.

In fact, sometimes death was the better option.

… but that was against their Father’s better interests. God forbid he ruin his favorite toy, or his toy’s only competent caretaker, after all; this is the logic Godhead held on to desperately, so by the time the day came to leave, he felt somewhat ready to take that leap of faith. He just had to hope his Father had enough self control not to fuck himself over with a pre-ejactulatory mess.

A quick glance at the grandfather clock to his side read 10 minutes to 6 am. Outside the window he stood in front of, the sun had already began to rise, a pastel yellow peeking over the trees surrounding their home. Normally Godhead would still be in bed another hour, his sleep always heavy with the weight of countless drugs and supplementary melatonin, but today he had to begin gathering himself at the same time the help usually woke: 5 am on the dot.

As neglectful as it may be, he looked forward to the drive across state lines for the sole purpose of passing out against the upholstery.

“Hi.”

Floorboards creaked behind him. Somehow just as silent in his chair as he was slinking around on his toes, Christopher rolled up beside Godhead, a stuffed rabbit draped casually over his shoulder. A package of ‘mega stuf’ Oreos rest in his lap, a banana-flavored protein shake set beside it. “You’re leaving.”

GH glanced at him. “Moses doesn’t want you eating those.”

“Yes.”

They stared out the window together. He should consider double-checking his luggage, but instead, Godhead thought about walking them both to the porch. Maybe it would be nice, to relish in the cool morning wind for a few minutes.  
But then Christopher tugged on his sleeve, breaking his train of thought. Godhead frowned, looking down at him. “What?”

“They’re not for me.”

“... what?”

Christopher pulled the rabbit from his shoulder. He folded the food on top of it, moving the hands and feet so it hugged onto both containers, and held it out for Godhead. When he reached for it, Christopher leaned forward, nibbling gently against his pinkie finger. “Goodbye,” he said, and pulled back, turning the chair around and rolling towards one of the TV rooms.

Godhead blinked at the spot his brother had just been, before pressing this makeshift care package to his chest. He’d have to find another bag, then.

A moment later, his silver wristwatch chimed softly at him, followed by the _gong_ of the grandfather clock. 6 am on the dot. He pulled away from the window, heading for the table in the smaller dining room, where the few amount of stuff he planned to bring sat waiting for him. He might as well move outside early; he felt too restless, standing around.

When he walked in, he saw his other little brother standing by the table, staring at him. One arm was crossed over his chest--flat, binder already back in place after his morning workout--while his other held what was undoubtedly his third cup of coffee. “Where did you get all that?”

Godhead placed the rabbit bundle carefully on the table, keeping the little appendages wrapped around the food by placing it face down. “The moron gave it to me,” he said, though his voice was adjacent to something soft.

Moses laughed. He placed his cup on the table, and stepped forward; his hands fluttered to Godhead’s tie, fussing about, straightening it out before moving to smooth Godhead’s impeccable hair down and brush unnoticed particles from his dress vest. On reflex, Godhead’s jaw tightened with the urge to snap about being a grown man--and Moses was only, what, 13? He certainly didn’t look the part, their eyes nearly level now--but instead, he held himself quiet and still.

Mo stepped back, looking Godhead over carefully, top to bottom. “So. What are you taking with you?”

“Clothing, mostly.” Godhead glanced at the table. Two bags, full of medical supplies and pills, and a large-ish suitcase. “A few books. The CPAP. Things of that nature. I’m leaving most valuables here, considering my apartment will be in the middle of Godless savages.”

That earned him a roll of the eyes. Mo picked up his coffee again, taking a sip. “And that’s it? That’s all you’re taking?”

Godhead frowned. “Yes.”

“Nothing else?”

“Like I said--”

Mo clicked his tongue. He tilt his head to the side, staring at Godhead. “You’re lying, aren’t you?”

* * *

Though Lucifer hadn’t seen a clock in over a decade, he could feel his schedule out to minute-precision.

It was all he looked forward to. One to three times daily, the frequency fluctuating yet the timing always the same, someone would bring down scraps; meat, maybe roasted cartilage, along with a chunk of stale bread, tap water, and a plethora of vitamins to try and stave off the inevitable need for likely fatal medical intervention when his body finally rejected this life stowed away underground.

But of course, he certainly didn’t think about it so cynically.

He was fed semi-regularly--which he remembered from his old studies was more than a good chunk of the world could say--and every interaction with his caretakers came with a notably juvenile hope for brief companionship. Every new worker was a potential ally, maybe even someone willing to trade more than a few words. The addition of Moses, and his unmatched kindness, to Luci’s routine had only strengthened his resolve to find friends among the staff, believing in his heart of hearts that one of them, one day, would feel a mutual warmth.

And of course, his faith helped, too.

He’d picked up on the scraps of spirituality from the frightened maids who came down the stairs with crosses in hand, muttering reassurances from a Lord he’d never heard of before. When he timidly confessed to Mo about his budding interest, he gave Luci his very own bible for a 18th birthday he hadn’t known was approaching. Soon enough, he found himself in love with the concept of selfless forgiveness, validating the fruitless longing he’d held every day since being locked down here.

He struggled to understand most of the words at first, but with a few minutes of tutoring from Mo a few times a week, he was finally starting to make it all on his own, one passage at a time. He felt a swell of pride, every time he managed to figure out the meaning of a new word with the “context clues” surrounding it, usually confirmed only a few lines later.

And so, this is what he did, day in and day out. He had so much of the book to get through, providing a future to look forward to, and every time he opened it’s pages, the world around him seemed to expand a little further. In between his meals, he’d pull the book from it’s courtesy hiding spot--Moses told him he made clear to the staff they weren’t to punish him for having it, but he still stashed it away in case Mommy or Daddy ever came down again--and pour over the next page, lost in the moral lessons of men wise enough to transcript the teachings of God and Christ himself.

But, inevitably, plans change.

He heard the first creak at the very top of the staircase, a good, long walk from his cell. Luci’s ears were in tune with every sound that passed through the basement, whether they were familiar or queer, human or… something else. He reached to his side, grabbing his other birthday present, a small rosary; he pulled it close to his chest, sucking in a breath. That didn’t sound like Mommy. Or Daddy. Or any of the staff, really, including Moses.

As the floor creaked with the approach of Something, he thumbed at his cross, nervous energy building in his limbs. He told himself on repeat not to be alarmed; many… beings came and went down here. This basement was a den of despair all its own, as so many people had lost their lives to the cruelty of his family, even right in this very spot. Still, none of them had ever hurt him before--and if they weren’t going to then, it’s unlikely they’d change their minds now--because they almost certainly weren’t malicious. Just… full of intense sorrow.

And oh, could he understand _that._

Yet with the sound of every step, his heart hammered a little harder. He closed his eyes briefly, a small comfort, only to feel guilt nip at him until he opened them once more. If someone wanted to show themselves, it would be awfully rude to look away. If they were cursed to stay down here, with him, they deserved at least a little bit of acknowledgment, right?

… and then all of his thoughts came to a screeching halt.

The thing approaching him turned out to be a figure. With a few steps further, they made it to his range of sight, right in front of the door to his cell. Luci’s breath evaporated instantly.

“... Christian?”

He didn’t realize he was jolting forward until his steel collar, almost the size of his neck itself, was pressing against his trachea and digging into the skin just below his chin. The heavy chain connected to it prevented him from going all the way to the bars in front of him, but he still tried his best, reaching out desperately with a burst of frantic, excited energy. “Christian! [ _Christian!_ ]”

 _Christian_ stepped forward. He frowned down at him, his expression a mirror of what it had been when they were children. “Hello, Lucifer.”

A pause.

“[ _Lu_.]”

Luci’s eyes sparkled with an immediate swell of tears. “[You remembered],” he sobbed. “[You’re here, and… a-and you still know how to talk like--]”

Christian pulled a ring of keys from his pocket. Luci had seen it many times before, including earlier that day, when someone would come to clean him a little more thoroughly than a spray of scalding water. Christian unlocked the cell door, stepping inside. “[Of course I remembered.]” He closed the door and bent down, staring intently at Luci’s face. “... [You’ve gotten so thin.]”

And then he was pulling Luci into a kiss.

Luci’s eyes widen. He was pushed backwards, slowly, until they were laying where he’d sat before Christian had come. He’d dropped his Bible in surprise earlier--a gnawing anxiety bit at him with the thought of that, but Christian picked it up, setting it off to the side carefully--but continued to clutch the rosary tightly in his hand. Christian paused over it, and gently untangled it from Luci’s grasp, before setting it, too, with the bible.

A second later, their kiss was broken, and their breathing filled his cell with a beautiful and melody-like sound. “... ahh…” Luci’s cheeks felt unbearably warm, as if they might light up the whole basement with shades of red. Christian’s eyes pierced straight through him, as if glancing into the deepest parts of Luci and wanting more, more, more.

“[I’m going to make love to you.]”

A stunned silence. Christian frowned harder.

“[Lucifer.]”

Oh… oh! “[Y-yes, please, if that’s oka--]”

And then he was being pressed onto his back. Christian’s lips enveloped his again; his teeth dragged over Luci’s bottom lip, making his mouth open further, allowing Christian’s tongue to snake it’s way in. He kept his eyes open, that same piercing stare, but Luci let his own close with a desperate whimper.

He thread his fingers into Christian’s hair, gentle, experimenting. When he wasn’t shoved away, he rolled his hips upwards, against his brother. It wasn’t a motion of arousal--though he could feel himself starting to throb--but more of a desperation for contact. Christian’s hands ran from his shoulders--where he’d pushed Luci’s body--to his face, giving little flutters of fingertips as he cupped the sides of the jaw line. He tilt Luci’s head up, and his lips moved to the corner of Luci’s mouth, to his cheek, to his throat. Christian dragged his teeth all the way to the area right above his collarbone and bit down, earning a gasp and eyes fluttering open once more.

His hands moved again. Like water, they flowed over Luci’s neck, to his chest; they cupped at flat breasts, a motion that sent a shiver of delight through Luci, and then down his ribcage, to the expanse of his stomach, his navel, and finally the handles of his hips. Christian squeezed once, tight, and then smoothed over them like he was trying to apologize.

There were so many biting kisses pressed to Luci’s throat. It’s like his brother was imprinting a pattern upon him, a purple patchwork to signify who was here--who he belonged to. At the thought of that, he gave a keen in time with a hard throb of himself (his… his cock, right? That was the word Daddy used, wasn’t it? Oh, he shouldn’t think about that now…), fully erect with the build up of attention.

Christian started moving his whole body down. Over Luci’s collar, to his breast--a quick flick of the tongue to Luci’s nipple earned an especially sharp whine--and then his navel. One more kiss there, still full of teeth, and he pulled back to be level with Luci’s cock.

A gasp.

Christian wasted no time gripping the base. He opened his mouth, long tongue unfurling, a lewd sight as he leaned forward and pressed himself to the tip. Luci nearly yelped, throwing his hand to his mouth to stop himself from sounding like an idiot, only for Christian to grab his hands and pull them away. He gave a Look, which translated to something like _I want to hear you squeal_.

And then his lips were around Lucifer’s cock.

It was an experience unlike any other. He’d touched himself before, yearning for love and affection and maybe a little overcome with hormones, but this… it wasn’t like this. It was _never_ like this.

Luci didn’t just moan, he _wailed_ ; his fingers tangled into Christian’s hair again, scratching with frantic need, as his brother made him feel more alive then he had since they were children. His hips shook and thrust upward, jerking around, too overcome to worry about manners or an attempt to read Christian’s body language. Christian surrounded the whole of him, engulfing his cock as if his throat was designed for nothing else, his eyes still locked onto Luci’s face with narrowed focus.

His hand spread Luci’s legs further apart. His fingers danced downward, finding their way to his ass, and pressed inside. Luci’s body took him with ease; he’d never had trouble bleeding, not even with Daddy, who used it against him to claim it’s what he’d wanted all along--

No. Not thinking about right now.

Christian wasted no time here either. The pad of his finger curled upward, and something deep inside of Luci flickered with an intense pleasure he wasn’t familiar with. His teeth chattered, and his thrusting increased in speed and force, using Christian’s mouth in a way he distantly hoped wasn’t cruel but couldn’t help because he was just--

Close.

He was _so fucking close_.

“Ahhh!” He shoved Christian’s head down in time with his spasms. He felt his brother growl against him, but it was a low, pleased sound, as Luci’s vision went foggy, his eyes hazing and rolling backwards.

Fuck. Fuck! So close close _close_ \--

Christian free hand found one of Luci’s, untangling it from his hair to thread their fingers together. A simple intimacy.

And that simple intimacy was enough to push him straight over the edge.

Blinding, all-encompassing light. Distantly, he felt his cum hit the back of Christian’s throat, and felt it drunk without hesitation. Luci’s head felt sky-bound, thoughts of wind through his hair like the embrace of a Lord he’d only just come to know. If he focused hard enough, he could imagine wings, unfurling from his body, carrying him and his brothers so far away from here that he’d forget he’d ever known what crippling loneliness felt like.

He came back down with a content sigh, eyes he hadn’t noticed closed opening once more. He glanced down, watching as Christian let his cock go with a wet _pop_ , carefully laying Luci’s hips on the ground.

And then Christian pulled back completely; he loosened his tie with a quick flick of the wrist, but didn’t actually remove anything, his hands smoothing his vest before reaching down to the button of this pants. He popped it, and the zipper, open in conjunctor.

He was already hard. His cock sprung free immediately without the confinement of underwear--did he always dress like that, or had he intentionally forsaken undergarments for this very purpose?--but he ignored his erection, leaning forward.

They kissed once more. Christian’s arms wrapped under Luci, pulling him in and then upwards, until they were both sitting. He shuffled them to the wall, so his back rest against it, while Luci sat folded in his lap.

His hands ran along Luci’s spine, delicate spider-fingers drumming against his skin, drawing out goosebumps. Their lips broke apart, and they spent a minute held together, softly panting. His cock rested against Luci’s, giving a pitiful throb, but though he stirred, he still hadn’t managed to recover yet. Christian’s hands slid back up to his face, cupping his cheeks.

“[I love you],” Luci whispered.

“[I know],” Christian whispered back.

And then he was reaching down again. One hand gripped Luci’s hip, pulling him up enough for the other to guide his cock to Luci’s ass, tip at the entrance.

Another pecking kiss, and then Christian buried his head in the crook of Luci’s neck and his cock inside his ass.

… He hadn’t felt himself filled in a few years now. Daddy had lost interest long ago, and he hadn’t had a man outside of Moses care for him in a good while. Sometimes, as shameful and dirty as it felt, he missed the intimacy of their brutality; the way they’d be forced to touch him enough to sprawl him out, spread his legs, and mount him however they wanted.

None of that compared to the warmth he felt now, with Christian’s arms around him. Luci gasped as he was slid down, maneuvered with a slow, steady hand, as he was impaled upon Christian's cock.

He’d never felt intimacy like this.

He’d never felt so _loved_.

Christian’s teeth nibbled against him, taking in Luci’s scent in long inhales. Both hands were at his hips, maneuvering his malnourished weight with ease. His cock was already at half mast again; he ached with the urge to touch himself, but clung to Christian’s chest instead, kneading at his clothes with mewling whimpers. By the time he’d sunk all the way to the base of Christian’s cock, he could feel himself shaking, nearly overstimulated by the intensity of his emotions as much as the feeling of pleasure everywhere Christian’s body brushed against his.

They held there for a moment, both gasping. Christian pulled back from his neck, staring into his eyes.

“[No one else can call me by my real name. No one but you.]” There was a frantic tint to his words, eyes darting over Luci’s face. “[Do you understand? You mean more to me then they ever will, Lucifer. Lu. _I need you to tell me you understand_.]”

Luci’s throat tightened. He nodded quickly, and his own voice picked up that same frantic pitch. “[Yes. Yes, I understand, I… you l-love me. You love me.]”

Christian’s hands tightened. He pulled Luci up abruptly, only to slam him back down again. “[Say it again.]”

Luci whimpered, his forehead falling to Christian’s. “[You love me.]”

Thrust. “[Again.]”

“[Y-you love me.]”

“[ _Again._ ]”

“[You love--!]”

Christian’s mouth was back at his. His tongue shoved its way inside Luci’s throat, rough, full of unchecked force. Luci moaned, and one of Christian’s hands left Luci’s hips, to grab his cock. The pad of his thumb pressed against his tip, before swiping down; at the same time, the hand still on Luci’s waist pushed at him, until Luci took the hint and began to fuck himself with his brother’s cock.

Their speeds fell into sync with ease. A thrust up, and Christian’s hand came down; a thrust down, and his hand jerked up; soon, they’d both turned as frantic as their words before, edging closer and closer to a fusion of their bodies and their souls. Luci can feel tears pouring hot down his cheeks, pooling at his chin, dripping onto his cock as Christian pumped him faster and faster.

Oh God. Oh, _God_ , he was already almost there, but he didn’t want it to end; he pawed at Christian, as if to tell him to slow down, but his tongue swirled inside Luci’s mouth until Luci was aware, all at once, that his brother was just as close to the edge.

Their lips parted again, both gasping at the edge of climax, eyes watered and locked together. Luci wished he could hold together like this, forever, and yet his stomach clenched with a desperate need for a second orgasm.

“Lucifer,” Christian whispered. He pushed their foreheads together once more, and frowned, his features squirming as he focused on words that hang at the end of his tongue. “[I…]”

Luci smiled, breathless and full of adoration. “[I know. I know, Christian. I love you too.]”

And that’s what did it.

He watched as Christian’s face twisted, tears doting at the corners of his brother’s eyes in time with a shuddering breath. His cum filled the inside of Luci, these thick ribbons of heat coiling inside Luci’s body as he tipped into his orgasm.

A sob fell from his lips as he arched his back, his hips pressing his cock as far into Christian’s hand as his could manage, a much less productive burst of cum then before splashing against his own stomach. They fucked each other through their climax, minds wrapping together with wings in the clouds above, until they finally collapsed, covered in their own sweat and each other.

They sat in a breathless silence. Christian’s cum trickled down Luci’s thighs, dripping onto his pants and the ground below them. They stayed tangled like that for minutes more, feeling as if the time around them was simultaneously an endless number of hours, and a short few seconds.

When Christian finally pulled himself out of Luci with a grunt, Luci nearly begged to cling just a little long, touch starved and still so desperate, but he didn’t want to be an annoyance after Christian had treated him so well. The cell floor was harsh in it’s chill as he was set down, but at least it gave a small comfort to the ache deep inside him which made the flesh of his ass and the swell of his hips burn.

“I, ah…” Luci whimpered. He glanced at Christian’s flushed face with a deep longing, before taking a breath. “... [Thank you, Christian.]”

Christian shook his head. He tucked his cock back in his pants, zipping them up slowly, hands nearly shaking. Luci felt a small sense of pride at his brother’s physical state nip at him. “[Don’t, Lucifer.] I’m just impatient.”

This kiss was much softer, without the teeth or tongue. They held it for one more glorious moment, and then Christian was pulling away to stand.

Luci’s heart sank. Right. He’ll have to leave now; Luci’s cage is built for a single living soul, and nothing more. The basement had already began to drone with that familiar silence that followed him even into his restless dreams, and he shivered, suddenly freezing. He pulled his legs to his chest.

“... [will I ever see you again?]”

Christian paused, keyring out of his pocket again. He looked at Luci, and like an angel sent by the grace of God himself, he saw the radiance of his brother’s smile.

And then he was gone.

Luci had never felt as blessed as he did now. His chest ached with gratitude to the Lord, thoughts of prayers he’ll whisper that night already swirling inside his mind. How lucky he was, to live like this, so closed to all the people he loved.

And yet, he couldn’t stop sobbing.

He didn’t notice when the cell door opened again, too busy wiping at the endless tears running down his face as his brother stepped back inside. It wasn’t until Christian was directly in front of him again, a large trunk at his side, that Luci sucked in a breath, looking up with eyes impossibly wide. “Christian!” He could feel his lips aching with the size of his smile. “[You came back! _You came back_ \--]”

He barely noticed the needle slide into his neck.

* * *

“--You’re lying, aren’t you?”

Godhead paused.

His eyes locked with Mo’s. A silent stand-off, though neither was certain how serious it might be. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Moses’s own eyes narrowed. For a moment, he looked as if he’d go off on one of his nagging rants about ‘respect’ or ‘compassion’ or whatever else didn’t actually apply to Godhead--but instead, he smiled. “Right. Of course you don’t.”

He downed the rest of his coffee, setting it down on the table beside Godhead’s suitcase. “I’ll get you a bag for that,” he pointed at the gifts Christopher had graced him. “If I find out you threw any of it away, I’ll be pissed.”

Godhead scoffed. “ _And?_ What’ll you do, drive out of state just to lecture me in person?”

Moses smiled, but it wasn’t a no. He turned, walking to the closet at the end of the room, reaching in and pulling out one of their Mother’s endless number of designer bags. “Keep yourself out of trouble, alright? The world out there isn’t like the one in here.” He handed the purse to Godhead. “Make sure to refill your meds _before_ you run out. If you’re having trouble breathing and the inhaler doesn’t work, call 911 immediately. If you need emergency funds, the blue card should--”

“Moses, stop.”

Godhead’s hand plopped onto Mo’s head. It earned him a blink in response.

“You don’t need to fuss over me.” He ran his hand through his brother’s silk black hair, amused at the blank expression staring back at him. He slid Christopher’s gifts into his Mother’s bag, turning to the rest of his belongings and placing it among them. He clicked his tongue. “If you have to, save your energy for worrying over the moron. I’m an adult. You shouldn’t have to take care of everyone.”

Moses opened his mouth, as if to protest, only to close it again. He looked down, cheeks turning pink that almost wasn’t visible with his skin tone. “... alright,” he mumbled. With those simple reassurances, his parental act deflated, until--for just a second--he almost looked like a kid again.

It didn’t last. Mo took a breath, and when he held his chin up again, he had his usual careful resolve locked back in place. “Alright,” he repeated, firm. He grinned. “If you fuck up anyway, I’ll make sure to hold it against you forever.”

Godhead snorted. “Of course you will.”

* * *

The help loaded his bags into the trunk of the escort car. When it came time for his suitcase, Godhead snapped that he didn’t trust the thieving handmaids to handle it, opting instead to walk it out to the car himself. The driver for today, an older gentleman he’d met a few times before, nodded as he approached. “My Lord,” he smiled, holding the door open. Godhead nodded back, carefully placing the case in the middle seat in the back, sliding in beside it.

The door was closed. A second later, the driver was back in his seat at the wheel, and cold AC poured in, approximate temperature freezing. Just the way all full blooded Idol’s liked it. “You’re excited for your first journey outside the nest, aren’t you, my Lord?”

“Quite,” Godhead muttered. He glanced out the window, watching as they began the snaking path down their long driveway. Without thinking about it, he rest his hand against the case beside him, the texture of the leather soothing as he watched the only home he’d ever known disappear behind the trees.

**Author's Note:**

> If you actually read this whole thing, despite being so niche: thank you. Thank you so, so much.


End file.
